


Slowly

by almaia



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, GE2017, Lolitics - Freeform, community: lolitics_meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaia/pseuds/almaia
Summary: The Leader of the Opposition makes a surprise visit to 10 Downing Street after the Prime Minister's re-election





	Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> With GE2017 ending, it's about damn time for another Cormay fic! I would like to thank mistmountaindreamer for helping me come up with this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: The content of this work is purely fictional even if the characters are real life figures and some real life events are referenced to. No disrespect and political bias is intended by this work.

**June 9 th 2017 – 10 Downing Street**

When the election cycle started, a majority government was projected for the Conservatives. The projection was so reassuring that the spin doctors of the Conservatives didn’t bother to lift a finger or two. Not to mention that Theresa May’s special advisers were not of great help – and at one point, Fiona Hill ran into a fight with her boss when her boss insisted that she does more door-to-door campaigning with the Scottish Conservatives candidates.

Of course, there was the fucked up manifesto – and Theresa’s absences from the debates (which also led to Jeremy Corbyn being absent from the debates).

And that my friends, is how the General Election ended with a Hung Parliament.

The Hung Parliament got both the Conservatives and Labour scrambling to form alliances – well mostly, the Conservatives were scrambling for an alliance. At this given time, Theresa May has been drawing up plans to present to the Democratic Union Party, the only party that would surely coalition with her.

Jeremy, being deprived of direct contact from his political rival since the election cycle began, decided that his need must be addressed. This is how Jeremy Corbyn found himself disguised as a utility personnel for 10 Downing Street. Slowly making his way through the Prime Minister’s office, he spotted the Prime Minister’s special advisers drunk.

Fiona Hill was all disheveled, and on the floor, whining about how everyone has been blaming her for the election results. Nick, who was less disheveled, was right beside her, singing loudly along to whatever song was blasting from his Bluetooth speakers at that time. Jeremy sensed that they must have drunk so much – as he spotted two bottles of whisky on the floor, one half-empty and another that was totally empty.

Their drunkness made it easy for him to walk past them, without a fight. A few more steps and he found the door he was looking for. The door that could have been his office if this wasn’t a Hung Parliament, and if his party had won the majority.

 _Slowly_ , he opened that door, revealing the Prime Minister bent over the table as she shuffled through papers. The papers presumably had plans on them for a Conservative-DUP coalition. She seemed very invested about reviewing those papers that she had not noticed him open the door.

After carefully shutting the door, he slowly made his way towards the Prime Minister, “My….my…what a compromising position, Prime Minister!” He said as if he was berating her on Prime Minister’s Questions

“Jeremy Corbyn. I don’t care how you got inside my office,” Theresa said as she continued to shuffle through the papers laid on her desk, “I just want you to get out of my office, _now_.”

“It’s your desk that I want.” Jeremy said in a determined tone. Of course, that wasn’t the main reason why he was there, but he had to at least, make his break-in seem official.

“You can have my desk,” Theresa said in a tone that made Jeremy seem so hopeful, “You’re just _not_ getting the job.” And in that moment, Jeremy’s hopes was shattered just as fast as it was built up. He shrugged off, because that was not what he was really there for.

Jeremy slipped his hand under Theresa’s skirt, running up to her knickers. His hand then trailed down to the base of the knickers, “It’s not wet yet,” he said in a rather disappointed tone, “but I can fix that.” He added as he slipped in his fingers so that he could rub her out.

“Fuck.” Was all that Theresa could moan as Jeremy’s fingers made a circular motion on her clit.

“Such profanity!” Jeremy said as he felt her clit go moister, “You must have been waiting for me!” he said with a chuckle. His fingers were going quicker this time, and he swore that any time now, she was going to loosen herself.

“More like waiting for my husband, but-“ Theresa scowled, but before she could even continue, Jeremy has cut her off. She was now trying to maintain her balance by holding on tightly to the edge of her desk.

“But, I’ll have to do, huh?” Jeremy asked as he inched his head closer to her neck. Oh, she smelled of the mixture of sweat and designer perfume, but he liked her this way. This was the smell that kept him coming back for her.

Theresa tried to break free of his hold, but he has already held on to her tightly. With his trousers unbuckled, and out of the way, he went on to hike up her skirt and pull down her knickers. “I’m about to fuck that little cunt raw, Prime Minister.” He said with a menacing smile, one that he would have made if he had won a majority government on this election.

“Then just try!” Theresa scowled at him. He took the challenge to heart and tried to get into her, except that she moves away every time tries to slip in his cock. She was not giving up this fight easily. She wanted to show him that it won’t come easy for him, simply because he’s managed to have her get hot and bothered.

“Be still you little-“ Jeremy said as he struggled to slip into her. With all her mustered strength, Theresa flipped around to face him in his arms. She locked her eyes with Jeremy and put her hands on top of his shoulders.

“Fuck me how I want you to,” Theresa said as she brought her face closer to his, “And I’ll let you in me.” Then she moved some papers on her desk out of the way, sitting on top of her desk afterwards. After seating herself on the desk, she slowly spread her legs apart, revealing her juicy cunt to him.

She ran her finger down her cunt as she used her free hand to pull Jeremy closer to him. She then had him suck her finger that was once in her cunt moments ago, “Fuck me deep and slow, Jeremy. Own me.”

In that moment, Jeremy was gobsmacked – mostly because she really wanted this. She wanted him to take control in pleasuring her. He then slipped into her and started to thrust into her deeply and slowly, just as she has been told.

As the two party leaders made love, a famous song was blaring loudly on Nick Timothy’s Bluetooth speakers. Jeremy, knowing the language the song was in, and being in the mood, tried to sing along. Yes, he has heard of this song numerous times, but he never gave much attention to it – until this very moment.

“ _Despacito, quiero respirar tu cuello despacito_ ,” Jeremy sung along in a breathy voice as he tried to keep his pace. Theresa was not sure whether to giggle or feel _even more_ turned on about this, “ _Deja que te diga cosas al oído. Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo_.” His hands were now kneading her breasts as he went on – singing as he was thrusting into her.

She has heard of the song at least a few times – when Nick and Fiona would sing the song loudly whenever it came on the radio. Oh, she remembered that time she caught them singing along, and she had to shoot a glare at them, as if to tell them to keep it down. They were in the Tory Battle Bus at that time, after all.

 “I’ve heard of that song, maybe a few times,” Theresa told him, “I take it that your voters are very familiar of the song, as with my dearest aides. What exactly are you trying to tell me?” she added as she cupped his face with her hands.

“I’m telling you about how I’m breathing on your neck slowly,” Jeremy said as he looked at her amorously, “and I’d tell you things so that you’ll remember me even when I’m not here.” Cheesy as the song may seem, this was what he was truly feeling for her.

The two leaders were now forehead-to-forehead as they found rhythm in their lovemaking, “I’ll have you know that I am still _strong and stable_ here.” Theresa whispered, “You’re going to cum before I will. I know you’ll do.” And there was something in her velvety voice that pushed Jeremy closer to blowing.

Meanwhile, outside the Prime Minister’s office, Fiona Hill was singing along to _Despacito_ loudly because of her intoxicated state. At this point, she was now standing, and grinding on Nick Timothy as she did so.

“Llama llama. Llama llama red pajama.” Fiona sung as she held on to Nick Timothy, who was desperately trying to avoid getting grinded by her, “Is alone without his mama.”

“Fiona, that’s not even the right lyrics to the song!” Nick said as he attempted to break free from Fiona’s hold and grinding. He may be just as drunk as her but he still knew that the song had nothing to do with a children’s story.

“But I am alone without my mummy!” Fiona said loudly as she continued to grind on Nick, “She’s in there, trying to form a coalition. She told us to stay out!”

“You’ve been too controlling. That’s why mummy wanted us to stay out!” Nick told her. Of course, they did not actually call the Prime Minister “mummy” in her presence, but they are intoxicated – and this is what happens when one is drunk, they say things they’d never bother saying when they’re sober.

Their argument was suddenly interrupted by Jeremy Corbyn’s loud moans, followed by Theresa saying, “Oh Jeremy, you’re _hung_ , just like our _parliament_!” Nick and Fiona then rushed by the door to listen to the conversation going on inside – giggling as their boss compared the Labour leader to the current state of the parliament.

“I suppose you are right,” Jeremy said, “You did not just make the parliament hung, but you’ve made the Leader of the Opposition himself hung as well.”  There was a cheeky tinge of his voice when he said that.

“Such a cheeky lad, aren’t you?” Theresa said, as she let out a giggle afterwards. At the same time, Nick and Fiona, who were listening through the door, could not help but giggle as well. They could not help but giggle because for one – they had no idea that the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition would throw banter at each other like in the PMQs even when they make love, and most especially, they had no idea that the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition _just made love_.

If Sky News had to describe this, they’d say **“Election Forecast: _Hung Parliament with a side of Hung Leader of the Opposition_** ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note:  
> -Fiona Hill singing "Llama Llama Red Pajama" to _Despacito_ in this fic is a reference to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2d2u2xfIb04)


End file.
